Open the Box
by HM Grayson
Summary: Embry doesn’t know who his father is. Or how Leah really feels about Jacob, at least that’s what he tells himself. Jacob says there are some things better left unknown. Embry might just have to disagree.
1. Act I: Alpha

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer created it and just because I disagree with parts of it, doesn't mean I still don't admire her for it in the first place. I'm not trying to rip any one off, as evidenced by the making no money part.

Author's Note: A rather strange story in that it talks incessantly about Leah's relationship with Jacob, Sam and Embry (mostly Jacob/Leah), and it's actually about Embry's relationship with himself. Yeah, I'm not sure how that happened either.

...

Open the Box

...

Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

...

Act I: Alpha

...

"Leah's been staring at you all night."

He says it teasingly and so it's easy to ignore—I want to devour Emily's chocolate cake in peace. Unfortunately, Jacob hasn't finished thinking for the night.

"She's been doing that all week."

"Past three weeks," I correct absently.

That wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done I think as Jacob's eyebrows disappear under his too-long hair. It would have been better to ignore my best friend and Alpha in this situation; there's no explanation I can give that won't hurt someone and I've never been the type to enjoy causing pain. But I've opened my big mouth and I don't need my super special mindreading abilities to know that he's not going to let this go now.

Damn.

"She's been watching you like that for a month?"

Jacob doesn't reveal much with his clipped question, which makes me think things I probably shouldn't if I don't want our rogue pack to tear itself apart. When there's no privacy, there becomes topics that are forbidden even in the quiet my own mind.

"Would you like to know why?" I offer. It softens the unconscious scowl on his face.

"She told you why you're suddenly her favorite thing to look at?"

"Even simpler than that. She's watching me because I asked her too, Jake."

"Why would you do that?"

The puzzlement is all very natural. I've never been the most open with my feelings, but I've been very clear about my opinion of Leah. Up until a month ago, it was laughably simple.

If she made one more crack about my mother, I wouldn't hesitate to rip her miserable throat out.

Even now, I still have some lingering reservations about the female werewolf. It may have to do with all the mocking she's done in the past or the way she is growing more adept at hiding her thoughts faster than the rest of us or that she's an unapologetic bitch. It might be because she's the Beta and I understand she was part of the pack first, and that it would have been hard for Jake to pick between me or Quil, but she doesn't have to rub it in my face as often as she does. Or maybe it's because her eyes linger on things they can't have and I can't even pretend I haven't noticed—I have to forget I ever did. That's a lot of effort for someone I'm not even sure I like.

Jacob likes her. Seth loves her even though he agrees that she can be a little hard to get along with most of the time. Quil's come around, largely in part of Claire, one of the only people on the planet Leah is actually nice to. If Quil's so easily swayed by a four year old, I'm a little worried about what will happen as she grows older.

Claire is currently sitting on his lap as Quil tries to get the chocolate off her shirt before her parents notice. Quil no doubt has the expression of perfect happiness that decorates his face whenever the kid is around, though it's hard to see clearly through the packed room. All the wolves and family are crowded into Sam's house to celebrate Jared's birthday, and that's a whole lot of werewolf for any indoor space.

I lean back against the wall to try and create some room. It's a private conversation I'm going to be having.

"It's your fault," I say, "For making her apologize."

Jacob bristles and I wince internally because I haven't even gotten to the part that's guaranteed to upset him and he's on the defensive. "I didn't make her do anything." A deep breath and then he adds, "I'm just glad my suggestions finally got through that thick head of hers."

It's a point of pride with Jacob that he never orders around the rest of the pack, though no one would blame him if he did, and I admire him for it, even if it means I just insulted him. I especially respect the way he works with Leah. When they agree on something they can be scary in their determination, but that's actually common in our circle of friends. It's when they disagree that they prove over and over again that I did the right thing switching packs.

They aren't always civil, or polite, or remotely quiet when they conflict, but Jacob's never been afraid to let Leah change his mind and she'll defend his ideas wholeheartedly when he finally convinces her he's right. They're the most stubborn people I know, but neither one refuses to listen to the other about the important things. There was a little bit of that in Sam's pack, but it was more common to be told to just shut up or left alone until you came around to the Alpha's way of thinking.

Sam always snapped at Leah to apologize to me when her comments about my illegitimacy got really biting, but he never cared if she was sincere or not. Jacob hardly rebukes her, but he's spent months teasing, lecturing, taunting and arguing with Leah about her treatment of me until I slowly but surely noticed she was being just a little bit nicer. When she finally, haltingly, apologized on the patrol a month ago, I didn't need to hear her thoughts to know she meant it.

"She must listen when you talk. I don't think she knew how to say 'I'm sorry' before."

Jacob laughs and I glance at the topic of conversation out of the corner of my eye. Leah is currently trying to convince Emily to halt the cooking despite the protests of some of the nearby werewolves. The conversation is passionate but her eyes are constantly darting in my direction. In the direction of myself and Jacob, I correct—she's probably doing a side by side comparison. I wonder what she sees.

"I still don't understand how her apologizing leads to her staring."

"It's sort of a strange story."

"Sounds exciting," he says in such a way that I know he's going to make me tell him somehow.

It's not that I don't want to explain it to him, but I don't want to be selfish enough to want Jacob involved, no matter how much easier it'll be for me. Being friends forever has made me sort of protective of the guy.

If he could hear my thoughts right now, he'd probably be laughing because he's the best fighter the two of us know, and that's saying a lot—though I'm glad he can't hear anything because I need to organize my thoughts so that no one gets hurt. There are some things that can hurt the toughest of people. There must be a little bit of irony in the fact that the people who can hurt us the most are the ones we turn to for protection.

Not that Jacob has anything to blame Billy for just yet. Just as easily, it could be Quil or Sam's father who wounds his son. Their father's might harm them, but I never will.

Even if my mother did tell me who my father is (was? I'm not exactly sure what the shadowy masculine figure in her past qualifies as) nothing would change the fact that Jacob, Quil and Sam are my brothers. They are my family. Forever. I just wish none of them were genetic relatives.

But that's wishful thinking. If there wasn't any shared blood, I would be outside this beautiful celebration, wondering how my old high school friends had gotten so tall. In a way, I'm glad that eighteen years ago my parents made a huge mistake.

Jacob, Quil and Sam probably think the same way. That doesn't mean they wouldn't be partially devastated to learn I was their actual brother.

There's no way to figure it out for sure, of course. Paternity tests are out of the question what with my unnatural mystical blood and my mother's sworn to take her secret to the grave. Normally I would respect her decision, I do about everything else, but this time it's different.

I've been the bastard my whole life and the disgrace isn't something I think about a lot, mostly because I couldn't really face feeling that ashamed all that time, but also because I hate when my mother gets that closed off look in her face—and she always knows when I'm feeling down about my parentage. But there are times when I can't help but let the whispered comments—and the not-so-whispered insults—get to me. It makes me sick and I want it to stop.

Not that knowing exactly who's to blame will make it that much better, but it's one of the only things I can think of that might help. There's no blaming my mother, I love her too much and she wasn't much older than me at the time, anyways. There's an old, married man out there who should have known better—and who continues not to acknowledge his mistake. I've never liked hypocrisy, and I really don't like it when it's denying me closure.

Leah thinks I'm being stupid—she said so outright. Multiple times. Loudly. In various terms that I wouldn't dare repeat within a hundred yards of my mother. There is no crystal clear enough to illustrate how obvious she made her opinion known. That's what she does.

Maybe I am being stupid wanting to know something that will only harm those I call brothers. But the not knowing is the worst of all, makes everything just a little bit bitter, and I think Leah must have understood this because she _has _been staring the past month despite her initial protests.

Sam Uley disappeared for three hundred and forty-seven hours when he first phased. Leah can still tell the minute she found out he came back. Jacob's the only one who's head she won't bite off for stating that information. That's part of why she's the one I asked for help, despite my opinion of her.

"When she apologized, she said she wanted to make it up to me somehow. I think she was just trying to get more patrols, but she offered."

"So you asked her to stare at you?" Jacob laughs again. "Embry, do you have a self-esteem problem you want to tell me about? Or are you just that desperate to have a girl look at you?"

"Shut up. That's not what I asked her for."

"So what did you...?"

"I asked for her honest opinion."

"Like Leah knows how to give it any other way." It doesn't disturb Jacob like it does everyone else; he just seems amused by that insufferable characteristic. "What about? Your fashion sense?"

I asked her if I looked more like Sam Uley or Jacob Black—my own observation has led me to conclude that despite the werewolf gene that makes all the pack members virtually indistinguishable from one another to an outsider, I look nothing like Quil. He's stocky where I'm tall and broad where I'm lean—and it's not just the physical distinctions. The instinctive, purely physical way Quil travels through life is a far cry from my more thoughtful approach, most similar to Sam's, but not unlike Jacob's. I'm fairly sure Quil is my brother only in name.

Deciding between Sam and Jacob is harder, which is why I need an outside opinion. Leah was terrified when I asked for hers.

I don't mention that to Jake, the way she froze and her thoughts swirled in panic, though even then she was trying desperately to keep her reasons to herself. _How would I know who your mommy screwed?_ Leah demanded.

It was a careful balancing act, what I did, letting her know I knew something neither of us could admit to knowing while never allowing myself to fully realize there was something to know while at the same time fully knowing if I did know what I knew, Leah would never forgive me. There was only one unfortunate second where I may have implied her observations of our illustrious leader were a little more extensive than my own, but we both just ignored the thought and let it fade into oblivion where it couldn't do any damage.

Do no harm is my new unofficial motto and I think about it while I try and figure out what to tell Jacob. The truth is bad; lying is worse. Giving Jake ideas is the last thing I want to do, but he's my best friend and I'm not going to lie—I was never very good at it anyway. I settle for half the truth.

"I asked if she thought I looked like Sam."

Jacob thinks it over for a second and tries to hide his surprise behind a bland smile. "It's taking her a month? I guess her memory isn't as good as it used to be."

"She's getting old," I agree, hoping to change the flow of the conversation.

Jacob has gotten smarter since taking charge of the pack and I don't doubt he's figured out my plans and Leah's part in it all. Does he wonder why I asked her? Or does he know?

If I open my mouth and spill my suspicious all over him, what would he do? Figuring out the answer shouldn't be too hard, what with knowing him inside and out thanks to my werewolf powers and all those years of living at each other's homes. If I tell him why I trust Leah's judgment about him more than my own, I know what will happen.

Jacob will shrug awkwardly and make a joke, purposely misunderstanding me, pretending he thinks I'm just trying to be funny. His eyes will harden until they are unreadable and his lips will purse and I will feel a stab of guilt at making it impossible for him to ignore. And then a smile will burst forth as he remembers he has to go call Nessie.

It's annoying, his inability to pull away from the leech for any length of time, and I suspect that it bugs him too sometimes, though he wouldn't have it any other way. Quil accepts everything that comes from being a werewolf easily and happily. Jake and I always had a few more reservations—even imprinting doesn't make that hesitancy disappear.

I'm not against imprinting, far from it. I love Emily and Claire and Rachel and all the other girls who have been adopted into our world and I long for someone of my own. But Nessie is half-vampire and instead of bringing her into the fold, we've been forced to watch as she tries to take Jacob away. If she would just share my best friend, I would be okay. I've had lots of practice. But she doesn't want to—this annoys me, and stranger, sometimes it even bothers Jacob.

Where Leah fits in all this I don't let myself think about, and if I haven't thought about it, I can pretty much guarantee that Jacob won't admit to even that.

Back when we were all still human, Leah was merely Harry Clearwater's pretty daughter who was much too old (three whole years!) for me to have any sort of chance with. I hadn't talked to her enough to get to know her, but Jacob thought she was okay and obviously really hot, if a bit stubborn and bossy and completely in love with the perfect Sam Uley and if she didn't shut up about him, Jacob would not be responsible for what happened to her phone. If we were still all human, would it still be like that? Emily Young's face would still be intact, so the point is really moot.

If Jacob hadn't imprinted, but we were all still wolves, where would we all be right now? The intimacy between Alpha and Beta is hard to ignore—even Quil blurts things out on occasion, though Seth has taken my ostrich in the sand approach—but that could be anything, really. Jared and Sam are close. Not quite as close as Jake and Leah, but still close. They don't argue with the same force or hunt with the same skill or defend each other as blindly despite their profound knowledge of each other's flaws, but Sam still leans on Jared in a somewhat similar manner.

Two years ago, I would have said no way. Back then Jacob liked his girls doe eyed and named Bella Swan. Leah's athletic build and sharp tongue wouldn't have earned her a second glance. Even when she should ask for help, Leah refuses to take helping hands and Jacob is nothing if not generous when it comes to giving assistance to those who need it. He is a supportive kind of guy and Leah is not the sort who would let him indulge that.

Even if I have noticed that she tends to take advice when Jacob's the one who offers it.

Leah loved Sam, had thought he was the hardest working, kindest, gentlest man she had ever met. Jacob is growing into that type of man, only one with more open mind, a better sense of humor and a harder bite. No wonder she—no wonder they are friends.

The old Jacob wouldn't have appreciated Leah, but that old Jacob is gone. Bella made sure of that. The new Jacob is more responsible, more determined and yet more flexible, and a hundred times more fair than the old one. He's also sharper and fiercer and stronger. This Jacob instinctively takes Leah on patrols with him, discusses every major decision with her, tries to make her smile when she's upset. This Jacob...this Jacob would be jealous of the attention it seems like she's showing me, if he could.

But he can't. So why am I wasting my time?

"She agreed to give you an answer?"

"No. She refused. Called me a bunch of unflattering names. But I think she's going to tell me anyway."

"What could she see anyway? She's not that observant."

"No," I agreed. "But no one else in our pack knows Sam as well. And a female perspective never hurt."

"Enter the mind of the bitch at your own peril," he mutters.

"Bitch? You talking about me?"

Leah's carrying a tray of muffins. I don't need to see the annoyance in her expression to know that she's only doing this to help Emily. Cooking and Leah should be kept apart of safety reasons at all times. Jacob and I each help ourselves to two muffins even as I try and think of an answer.

"Who else?" Jacob says, somehow managing to sound almost normal despite the pound of baked goods in his mouth. "Why the hell are you carrying the food?"

"So I can hit Paul in the face when he tries to make a joke about it."

"Can I help?" Jacob asks eagerly.

"Yeah. Defend my honor. We might be able to give everyone a heart attack."

"You could try being nice. That would work just as well."

"Go choke on your muffin, Jake," Leah chirps before Emily motions for her to move along. A flash of her finger and Leah goes to shove muffins down Colin's throat.

"Hey," I say as I knock Jacob's hand away right before he manages to filch some of my muffin. "You should have taken three."

"Leah might have hit me with the tray. Listen, Embry, maybe you shouldn't do this."

"Do what?"

I've never been very good at lying to Jacob. I've never been very good at lying, period. Games of pretend only work if you have someone to show you how and my someone was never mine in the first place.

"Chances are she's not going to be able to say anything for sure," Jacob begins. "But if she can? If she says you do look like him and she's a hundred percent certain? Does it even matter that much? It won't change anything."

"So it can't hurt to know."

"All it'll do is hurt."

"Jake...remember when Bella got pregnant? Now imagine you never found out what was inside her. Everything you did for the rest of your life, you would have no idea what was going on with her. There are just some things you need to know."

"Finding your father is not the same as me finding my imprint." That's not really what I meant, but he takes my botched comparison and runs with it. "Nessie completes my life. Your dad isn't going to do anything other than let you figure out more about your DNA. And since I'm the one you skipped most of Bio with, I know you don't give a shit about nucleo-whatevers."

"Nucleotides. The structural units of DNA."

Jacob rolls his eyes, mutters dork under his breath. I am. It's why I'm the one who still misses high school, why I'm off at college now even though I can't really afford it. But I did skip science as often as Jacob did; it's not the sort of subject that appeals to me. There are thousands of questions in science, but you have to sit around and figure out the one answer that goes with each. Even before we blew all accepted beliefs about the world out of the water, I didn't like the absolute certainty that scientists fool themselves into believing they have.

"The point is that it doesn't matter who your dad is. Knowing won't help."

"Easy for you to say. You _have_ a father. Maybe you just don't want to share him."

That he doesn't hit me is almost a bit of a disappointment. Instead, Jacob just stands straighter and his dark eyes burn into me, until I'm a little surprised that I haven't become a pile of smoldering ash on Sam's new carpet. Then I remember that Jacob isn't just the kid who's garage I used to practically live in—he's the Alpha now. A good one at that. He's just trying to look out for me.

"Embry, we've known each other since forever. I let you have my red Hot Wheels car. If you want something of mine, it's yours."

"I know." I do. If I needed a kidney, Jacob and Quil would probably fight to the death for the opportunity to give me theirs. There's no denying I have the best friends on the planet. But this isn't just about friendship, even if Jacob doesn't think that. He's still begging me to reconsider.

"Don't do this. There are some things you can't un-know. If you find out, you can't pretend everything's all right anymore." His face darkens as he voice drops. "Everything will be different, no matter how much you don't want it to be. Everyone you love, everything you've worked so hard for...it'll all be destroyed. And for no reason. It's not like anything can be allowed to change."

He's not talking about me anymore.

"It could," I mutter.

"No." Jacob doesn't give orders, but this sure as hell sounds like one. Maybe that's just the sound of defeat. "There's the way things are and there's nothing we can know or do that will change that."

"I don't believe that."

The funniest thing is that I used to, back when it was just me and Mom and never quite enough money. I thought that nothing changed, that I was stuck with what life had given me. And then one day I met this boy who grew up and became my best friend and he taught me that I didn't have to accept the shit life threw at me. I could fight back. I could make things better. I could get what I wanted.

So what the hell happened to Jacob Black?

There are rules. There always are. Lots of rules, written or oral or instinctive, but if you want to be in charge than you have to know them all. You have to follow them. All of them. And there are too many of them to count. Rules about imprinting, rules about werewolves, rules about vampires, rules about hybrids, rules about treaties, rules about promises and even rules about dating your friend's older sister. There are rules. And Jacob would break all of them in a heartbeat just to show he could except there's the very real chance that there are some rules that are etched so far into the stone that nothing can erase them.

It's not the failing that would kill him. Jacob hates failing, but he's never let that stop him before. We heal fast and he's up even faster than that, ready to try again.

But sometimes what you think is a door is really a wall and nothing anyone does is going to break it down. Ever. He couldn't survive knowing he had no options, so he has to pretend that this is a choice. This is what he wants. Which means that any information that might make that decision harder to live with is information he never needs to know. And we all get that, especially Leah_his_Beta, and so we say nothing at all.

Doing nothing is gradually killing him, of course, but at least it's a slow death. It's not the impotence that could strike him dead where he stands.

It's the hoping.

So we don't do that anymore.

"I wish I was wrong. But I don't think I am." Out of the corner of my eye I can see Paul and Leah engaging in the beginning of a heated argument. Jacob's already judging how long before it turns violent, even as he speaks to me. "I won't stop you, you know that. I just think it's not a good idea."

"I agree. Still going to do it. Twenty bucks says Leah throws the first punch."

"You're on. She won't do that to Emily."

It doesn't surprise me in the least that he turns out to be right. Paul's says she provoked him enough to justify the punch he threw, but Sam isn't standing for that. Seth is trying to patch Leah up in the bathroom when I find her. I don't say much—her split lip will heal in a few more minutes and I'm down twenty bucks because of her—but I ask her if I can come over the next day.

When she agrees I can't help but feel terrified.

Maybe Jacob is right and this is only going to make things worse. Maybe I'm just going to hurt everyone around me and still not be able to find what I want. How can I find something if I don't even know what I'm looking for?

But what if he's wrong?

...


	2. Act II: Beta

Author's Notes: This is very much how I personally see Leah interpreting Jacob, Sam and Embry. Feel free to disagree. I don't think there's enough information on Sam and Embry to pass judgment decisively any which way, but I hope you think I managed to catch something of their characters.

...

He said, she said, I said.

...

Act II: Beta

...

The Clearwaters used to live forty minutes walking distance away from me, almost as far away from the small rooms my mom rented as it was possible to get on the small reservation of La Push. Eventually Mom and I moved into a tiny house about thirty minutes away from them, but I only knew this because they were only a few blocks away from the Blacks—all the elders lived fairly close. Once Harry Clearwater died and Sue married old Charlie Swan up in Forks, the Clearwater house was sold. Seth moved in with his Mom and Leah moved to Seattle to take some courses. It takes me about thirty minutes to run there now that I have paws instead of feet. I can run across La Push in minutes.

During the summer, Leah comes back and refuses to stay with her mother in the old Swan house. It has less to do with Bella and leeches than it has to do with Harry, who's heart gave out while holding his daughter's heated hand, but who lived and breathed the land he was born on. She insists she has to be on the reservation and Sue lets her because she understands her daughter and loves her two husbands in different ways. During the summer, Leah's a drifter, living wherever anyone will take her in. Emily's couch is always open, but not surprisingly, Leah only uses that as a last resort. The Black house has spare bedrooms, but no one's stupid enough to suggest that.

This week Leah's staying with a high school friend of hers, one who shouldn't be around today according to Leah. I find her in the kitchen, washing up. Normally this would call for teasing—Leah hates being reminded she's a girl—but I know she's only doing that to earn her keep and I've seen my mother do that too many times to say anything.

All I do is greet her and offer to help.

"I'm almost done," she says. With a wave of the dishtowel, she gestures for me to sit down at the kitchen table. "So what is it you wanted to see me about? Any and all insults can wait for the group lecture I'm going to get from the pack later."

"We don't care how often you fight with Paul," I promise. "Even if you did go looking for it."

"I was bored."

"Nessie turned six last week," I bring up randomly. "I didn't go but I hear they had a pony."

"I'm sure Jacob has enough pictures on his serial killer wall to assist in all your fantasies. Please tell me you didn't come over her to talk to me about spawn from the overly dazzling Satan. Because I don't feel like talking about the rapidly growing freak show this morning."

"Do you ever get up on the right side of bed?"

"Don't you know? You're supposed to keep dogs off the bed."

I'm not exactly sure how to respond to that. She's joking, I'm pretty sure, but I don't really appreciate that kind of humor and I have no idea what kind of response is acceptable. That's why Quil and I decided to share our best friend with her. She can help with the parts of Jacob the two of us are too scared to look too closely at.

"I wanted to ask you if you'd given what I'd asked you anymore thought," I say instead. "About—"

"I know what about," she interrupts, like if we say it out loud, police might burst through the door and arrest us both. Hey, it happens in the movies. "What else would you want? You've got the brains of your namesake, you fucking idiot. You should drop this."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Leah. I already heard the lecture from Jacob. I just wanted to know if you did what you promised."

She stands there looking furious, the light from the window illuminating her from the behind so that most of her features are bathed in shadows. There's always been something manic about her and I suddenly wish I had brought back up. If she was truly mad, I'm not completely sure I would come off better in a fight.

"I did what I said I would."

"And?"

"And I don't know, Embry. I don't know what else to say. I can't tell you your goddamn life story."

The weight in my stomach is quickly identifiable as disappointment. It was strange and impulsive to pin on my hopes on Leah's ability to stare, but that's what I've gone and done. There's nothing to be done about that, now, but get over myself and go home without the answer that's been eluding me for years. But Leah's still talking.

"You look like both and you look like neither. I don't know which way is more likely."

"Try, Leah," I beg. Because I won't be the bastard the rest of my life. I need a father, even one I hate. I need a father so I can forget him and if she can't figure it out, I don't know what I'm going to try next.

Leah puts the last dish away and carefully folds up the tea towel and places it gently on the counter. There's a ritual feel to what she is doing, so I don't say anything. My mother always taught me how to be respectful. It's a little funny that she insisted so much on teaching me that, when so few people treated her with any—that's why I love her. That's why I can't ask her for the truth.

When Leah crosses the room to me, I only watch. There are empty chairs around the table, but she doesn't sit there, preferring to perch on the table instead so she can look down on me. It's fitting, having my judge seated so prominently before me, so I don't say anything about that either.

Her hand comes out to run gently along the bridge of my nose and she begins talking, barely above a whisper so I have to strain to hear what she says. "You've got Sam's nose, you know. It's a little too long, even for your faces. That helps make the two of you look so solemn all time."

Her hand dances across my face as she continues her narrative. "Your eyes aren't like his at all; yours are more golden brown. From far away they look the same, but up close...and you have his eyelashes—just a bit longer than they should be. Your jaw's like Jacob's, though, more square than Sam's, and..."

Her voice shakes, but I say nothing and eventually she spits it out, hating herself the whole time. "You have _his_ lips. Sam's are thinner, wider."

I shouldn't have done this, I realize with a start. This is terrible. Cruelty to animals, Jacob would say. Leah's not my favorite person, but I surprise myself by realizing I no longer dislike her, and she doesn't deserve what I'm doing to her, no matter how many slut comments she's made about my mother. Sam doesn't love her anymore, but he did once and it always hurts her to remember that—and I've asked her to focus on the fact she wasn't (we both can't let ourselves think _isn't_ though I'm sure she does sometimes when she can't help it) worth fighting for.

The protests die on my lips as she silences me with a kiss. I'm so stunned I can only stare as she pulls away, the briefest of seconds later.

"You don't taste like Sam either. He used to kiss me in the back of his car on the way home from school." She didn't mean to say that part out loud, I think, but she hardly notices. "He remembers, when he bothers to think about it. I don't think Jacob would. You're more like Sam that way, more meticulous. The two of you remember the where and why and how. Jake remembers the what clearest, though. I had never thought about it that way, before Jacob, but I think I like his way best.

"You're less of a romantic, so more like Sam again. He didn't believe in love at first sight...it took me weeks to get him to notice me. I was a brave freshmen—balls of steel. That always did make Sam a little uncomfortable, I think. The way it bothers you. Jacob doesn't care that I'm faster than him, just that he's not the best. He doesn't look at me like I'm a freak when I speak my mind.

"You're more forgiving than both of them, but Jake's so much better than Sam in that respect it's laughable. It's funny, but if our positions had been reversed, I bet you Sam would have been a hundred times worse than I was. He still wouldn't have gotten over it. Or maybe I haven't and I just get to trick myself into thinking that sometimes."

I take her by the hand because I am so in over my head I need to hold onto something before I drown. It's cold for a werewolf and I squeeze tightly. It finally draws her attention away from wherever in the past it was and onto me again. She gazes at our clutching fingers and smiles.

"Sam took my hand the day I phased back the first time. My first thought, after all of that, after Dad and legends that actually came true and the fucking fur balls...Sam took my hand and all I could think about was how small his fingers had gotten. Like it mattered. I don't know why, but thinking that made me lose it all over again.

"Jacob's hands are bigger than even my super paws, but he always had bigger hands. I remember thinking about that one night, a long time ago. It must have just been before Sam left and Jake had just hit puberty and I think Rachel had come back for Christmas. He snatched the bread roll off my plate and I remember thinking about how big his hands had gotten. And I remembered that stupid saying and then laughed because it was little Jacob I was thinking about...funny the things you remember."

"Funny," I echo.

"Yours are shaped like his. They're long but thick—sturdy fingers." She releases her grip on me. "Sam doesn't work with his hands the way you two do. He can use them well, but it's like...the way we're werewolves and the way Jake is."

That's a good way of putting it, I think, the difference between instinctive talent and well-developed skill. She doesn't bring it up but I think of another point of comparison all on my own: The whole tribe knows that it's a crying shame that Sam never went to university. They don't say that about Jacob.

"When you work, you work like Sam. Completely engrossed in what you're doing. Jacob concentrates, but he's also aware of the world around him.

"You get mad the way Sam does...you're a sulk, Embry. Jake gets angry but it's more explosive. He doesn't put up with my shit, even before...he fought back. Sam and you rarely do. But you're not afraid to be happy the way Sam is. You and Jake...you aren't afraid to enjoy life. I've always been sort of jealous of that."

"Thanks," I stumble.

"I don't know about when you're sad. The two of us aren't really close enough for me to say."

"That's okay."

"You run like Jacob," she ignores me. "Actually run like him. When you're a wolf you're more like Sam. I don't know what that means. I don't know what any of this means, but you wanted to know what I saw. So there it is."

Later, I'm sure this will be helpful. Right now, my thoughts are moving far too quickly for me to do much more than say, "Thank you."

"Sure," Leah mutters. She hopes off the table and goes back to the sink. There's nothing there to do so she just stands there and stares out the window for a while. I try not to watch her, but I can only pick dirt from my nails for so long. The sunlight hits her face, until her russet skin seems to burn.

That seems fitting.

Knowing something that she can't think about has got to be slowly destroying her, charring whatever is left inside of her, demolishing the small part of her heart she managed to rebuild after Sam. Jacob thinks she's stronger than that; he thinks she's an impenetrable fortress. I think it's a facade she puts on because Jacob needs her to. If she stops pretending, he has to stop pretending and then...then what? Then nothing. The wreckage behind those walls must be spectacular, I think.

Eventually she comes back to the real world. "Jacob's coming over soon for that stupid picnic thing. When we phase, I really would like to try and keep this private."

"Of course." That goes without saying. I haven't spent all that effort denying the obvious only to dump it on Jacob now. Then the first part of her sentence catches up with my brain. "Wait. What?"

"The picnic?"

"What picnic?' I say in that same it's-so-fucking-obvious tone just to annoy her.

Leah curses. "I forgot to tell you. The hybrid needs to celebrate her awesomeness some more, so the Cullens have graciously invited the whole pack for a picnic in the woods to celebrate. Apparently, the pixie felt the need to over decorate another part of the poor planet. I thought I told you—sorry."

"There are other people in the pack," I point out.

"And they asked me to invite you. Oh well, you're here now. We can go over together."

"I work today. I can't come."

She swears. "I'm sorry I forgot to tell you."

"Doesn't matter," I say, glancing at the window. "You know, I can't wait until I imprint."

"Excuse me?"

I hadn't meant to tell her, but I have to tell someone, and Leah and I are already hiding so much from the others, what's one more thing? "It's the perfect excuse to ignore all your friends."

She gets that I'm not talking about her quickly enough. That Leah, who was busy doing me a favor, forgot to tell me something doesn't really bother me. Knowing that my best friends left me in her hands bothers me more than I want to admit.

"They don't realize they're doing it. You say anything and they'll try and fix it."

"Begging my best friends to remember I exist isn't on my list of favorite things to do. I want them happy, and it's clear they're happier when they're not near me."

"Self-pity is not really attractive, Embry," she informs me. But it feels good to finally get this off my chest. I've been pretending it doesn't exist for too long. I even feel lighter, so I stand up, unable to stay seated.

"Sometimes I really hate you and Nessie and Claire."

"You did not just compare me to the child brides."

That makes me smile, or maybe it's her look of pure outrage. Whatever the reason a small chuckle escapes me. At this moment, I understand Jacob and Leah a little more. This edge isn't a nice place to be, but it's sort of fun just the same.

"Quil barely remember there's a rest of the world anymore. Jake's a bit better because he still has some concept of responsibility, but any attention he doesn't have to pay to Nessie he wants to pay to you—because you're a great Beta."

"The best," she says, her eyes narrowing. She'd be mad about what I just half said, but that would mean admitting to the truth of the words. She can't afford that.

"Better even than Jared. Since Jacob has Nessie to look at and you to listen to, he doesn't even remember I exist most of the time. So I want my own imprint so I can join their stupid little club and ignore them back."

"Boys," Leah mutters. Her expression becomes speculative, thoughtful—it scares me how I can tell she's thinking of something that I'm not going to approve of. "You know, since I didn't help figure out whose illegitimate problem you are, I sort of still owe you."

Inside I sigh. She's never going to be considerate. "I don't follow."

"I'm going to do you a favor, Embry."

And with that she grabs me and presses her lips to mine.

This is the second time this morning Leah's kissed me and if this is going to start being a pattern, I'm going to have a problem. Not that what she's doing right now is anything like the chaste peck she gave me before. Nothing like that.

It's a little disconcerting, but not all together unpleasant. Leah's hot and really good at this sort of thing, I think as her tongue slips into my mouth. Really, really good, I amend as I kiss her back. Warmer than anything I've ever felt and softer than she has any right to be. Of course, she's still Leah, and so she kisses like this is some kind of competition, but I just let her have her way. I'll demand an explanation later. Right now...well, there's no point in not enjoying this for what it is.

After a while, the arms around my neck slip off and she steps back, surveying me with a look of pride, like she's somehow accomplished something important. She wasn't that good.

"I still don't follow," I say when I catch my breath.

"It's simple, really, Embry. Since fate hates me, all I have to do is show even the remotest amount of interest in you and you'll imprint."

It's as close of an admission as she's ever given and I'm almost a little touched that she would go even that close to _there_ for me.

"You know, Leah, you might not be so bad after all."

She laughs, really truly laughs, not the half-bitter crap she usually pulls. "Now he gets it," she says, still smiling.

The knock on the door doesn't even stop her. Leah calls for Jacob to come to the kitchen with the corners of her lips still pointing upward. My best friend doesn't seem surprised to see me with Leah, but then again, he probably thinks I'm there to go to this stupid picnic with him.

"Ready to go?" he asks cheerfully. "Cullen promised to feed us burgers."

"We're taking their food now too?" Leah rolls her eyes. "What's next?"

"Once we get the house, we've got everything of value."

"And then we can get rid of them?"

"Why, Leah, I'm beginning to think you don't like them." She laughs and he turns to me. "What have you been up to, Embry? Your mom said you got up early this morning. "

"I had to come over here so Leah could kiss me."

I would laugh at how fast both their faces go completely blank, if I wasn't a little afraid one or both of them is going to kill me in the next thirty seconds. I had to tell because Jake might see it in our minds. This way, I can prepare him without exposing my thoughts on the matter just yet. That doesn't make the current situation any less awkward or less dangerous.

"That's a dumb idea," Jacob murmurs after a moment of silence that seems to last hundreds of years. "Dumb, Leah. He hasn't imprinted. Chances are he'll only end up—"

"I know," she interrupts, glaring at me so she doesn't have to look at him. "That was the whole point. I figured he'd get to imprint if I tried to trick fate into trying to pull another Sam on me."

Of course, it's all about Sam.

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard and I hang around you."

I don't notice how they're standing too close together.

"I don't understand how this is any of your business."

Jacob's face grows dark because of the shadows.

"I can't be concerned that my friends are behaving like morons?"

She flinches, and I try not to think friends and morons are really synonyms anyway.

"It was something to try. He's not sitting around moping, waiting for true love to sweep him off his feet and stop him from murdering children. I just wanted to help."

With a concentrated effort, Jacob swallows down his anger. It's calm down or phase and he really doesn't want us in his head right now. He can't afford that.

"Why would you want him to imprint?"

"Because I want to," I say. It's about time I spoke up, but I can't help that I've always preferred quiet harmony to noisy confrontation. "You all make it look...it looks enjoyable."

"To have no choice about who you're going to spend the rest of your life serving sounds enjoyable to you? That sounds good? Really?" Jacob doesn't sound angry anymore. In fact, I've never heard him sound more nonchalant. I can see the effort it costs him to say this, to force the words out despite how part of him won't allow it. But he does it, because he needs me to know this because he always has my back. "Embry, you're the lucky one. You can have...whatever you want."

His eyes stay firmly on me, studiously not looking at Leah whose face has tightened until I'm afraid she's just going to shatter in front of me. The kitchen seems to have shrunk somehow and I'm afraid that oxygen's stopped flowing in because no one sounds quite normal right then.

"It's like you're in a zoo, the nicest one you could ever manage, with room to run and rocks to play on and all the company you could ever want. But there are bars _everywhere_, Embry. Why the hell would you want that?"

The concept of fate has never bothered me much, not the way that it eats at Jake. Leah is grimacing even before I say, "I believe in soul mates and perfection. I guess I'm more like Sam that way, because I think we get what we need."

Sam hasn't touched the Cullens in the two years since Nessie's birth. He hasn't even thought about it. Jacob made the trade and even now I don't think he regrets it. He just wishes it didn't have to be that way.

"Because Sam is always fucking right," Leah snaps. She's furious at me, at Jake, at Sam, at life, because apparently Sam _is_ right and Leah just keeps getting fucked over. "Are we going to Princess Sparkles's birthday, or are we just going to stand around?"

"Don't call her that," Jacob says absently. "Embry, do you really think—"

"Yeah, I do."

"All right. Then I hope it works." He brightens quickly. Artificially. "So shall we go? Nessie's waiting."

"I can't," I explain. "I forgot I had to work this afternoon. I actually need to hurry up and get home."

They both express disappointment and I realize it's genuine. Of course it is, I berate myself. Even when he can't help but ignore me, Jacob is my best friend. Always has been and always will be. And Leah's insults are her way of showing she cares, since she evidently doesn't hate me as much as I thought, what with her actually trying to help. They want me to come with them because they enjoy my company.

I can be stupid sometimes.

"I'll see you guys later," I say. I'm not sure why I do it, exactly—maybe because she's already been so close today it hardly matters, maybe to see the look on Jacob's face, maybe because my mom raised me right and I finally don't resent that Leah is a girl. Whatever the reason, I walk over to Leah and hug her goodbye.

It's an apology and a thank you and a little bit of a reminder that this will never work. I won't be used to push the thoughts of others out of her mind. For all her insistence that this has been about helping me, I suspect Leah would like to help herself too. I know I can't be the way, but I hope she figures out something eventually.

There's a second when she just stands there frozen, probably looking at me like I'm crazy or exchanging a look with Jake that is practically begging for him to help get me off her. When my nose doesn't immediately get broken, I assume that he's not getting involved and Leah finally goes up on her toes and hugs me back.

She's the smallest werewolf and I wonder how I'm ever going to date because if Leah can't reach me properly, what sort of hope does another woman have? The feelings I have as I hold her are more powerful than I thought. She really is my friend now. There's no more pity, just a little bit of well earned sympathy mingled in with my respect for her.

"Have fun," I say. "Maybe you'll get another makeover out of this deal."

She growls at the reminder of Nessie's fourth birthday, while Jacob howls with laughter. They head off together, my Alpha and my Beta. They walk in step, but I let myself recognize this because there's no harm in it. They're a good team and there's no use in pretending they're not.

And if I'm concentrating extra hard to make sure team is all I think, no one's going to scold me for it.

...

TBC


	3. Act III: Gamma

...

Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong, have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. —Bertrand Russell

…

Act III: Gamma

…

I imprint fifteen days after Leah kisses me. No one mentions it, but Leah's in a bad mood for a week after the fact. She's glad for my sake that she was right, but having actual physical proof that there's someone big and powerful up there who is out to get her has her snapping at everyone for the smallest things.

As much as I like to think about my imprint (all the time, twenty-four seven, I wish there were extra hours in a day so I could think about her more) I try and limit my thoughts. I don't want Leah to feel left out anymore, especially since I feel like this blessing is because of her. Only the two Clearwaters haven't imprinted, and privately everyone believes that only Seth is going to.

It's partially to cheer Leah up that Jacob invites the entire pack over to his house, and partially because getting together is what we do. Quil buys out part of the grocery store in order to have enough food. There's only going to be the five of us but I doubt there will be enough to go around. Following my girl around is tiring work, not that I mind. It's the best kind of activity.

Seth is in charge of picking the entertainment, which means we're stuck watching every werewolf movie ever made. Despite everyone's protests, the movies still end up on the screen. Seth's just too _eager _to deny him anything. Plus, he jumps and down in his seat when _An American Werewolf in London _begins to play on the television despite having since it exactly fifty-three times.

Halfway through the movie, I look up and notice the way we all sit according to our wolf hierarchy. Seth is sprawled on the floor in front of the television, every cushion in the room under his body, while Quil and I have taken the two armchairs on either side of the couch. The two of us are the flanks, but I notice I'm closer to Jacob. I wonder if that means anything—anything besides the fact I like the old green chair the best. It has the best armrest; I can put my feet over it without my legs starting to hurt.

What will happen when Seth turns eighteen? He was here first, after all. I'd like to think I wouldn't mind, I cede my position to Quil every time we head into a fight anyway, but logically I know that I'll probably still be resentful . Is it even possible to resent Seth Clearwater? Now that is an interesting question and one I don't want to figure out the answer too.

Jacob and Leah are on the couch, Leah to his right. She's curled up on the seat, more like a cat than a dog, feet tucked under her as she watches the screen with an almost dazed expression. The number of times Seth has subjected her to this film are too numerous to count. Jacob's feet are on the floor as he sits almost properly on the couch, despite the bowl in his lap. And the bowl between him and Leah.

Leah wants to watch _Ginger Snaps_ afterwards, but the rest of us manage to vote her down. It might have pretty horrifying effects, but the big evil is just a metaphor for that time of month. Ew.

"Boys," Leah mutters as she always does, but let's Seth put on _Teen Wolf_ without any more protest.

"Cheer up, Leah," Jacob says. "At least you don't have worms in your hair."

"Why would I have—No. Don't you dare, Jacob Black."

"What?" Jacob says in an innocent voice that fools no one. Leah's shifting herself as far away from him as the couch will allow, hands up to stop him. "What's wrong, Leah?"

"No," she repeats.

"No? What?"

"Stop thinking about it."

"Thinking about what?" he asks, slowly chewing on a gummy worm. "This?"

And then he throws it on her hair.

There's a moment when Leah just takes a deep breath, as the half-masticated candy worm sits on her head and we all watch. We try not to laugh in the silence because that's only going to lead to one thing...Seth is the first to break. He howls on the floor as his sister glares.

"Traitor."

Then she picks up the bowl of barbeque chips and dumps them on Seth.

"Leah!" Seth whines, but she's not listening, already launching herself at Jake, piece of chocolate cake in her hands. He barely manages to catch her wrist in time, so he gets some on his chin, but he's holding her off. That's when Quil catches my eye and holds up the ketchup bottle I had brought over for the long-gone burgers. I grab the mustard and together the two of us turn to the couch.

With war cries, we attack, squirting everyone liberally because that's only fair. Seth dives for my legs, Leah moves against Quil and Jacob grabs the other bottle of ketchup.

It's all out war for a long time—I get chocolate in my eye at one point and it burns, but I don't have time to get it out. There are no prisoners in this game. It's do or die, and I don't want to be the one cleaning whipping cream out of my ear for the next week. That one time was killer.

Eventually, there isn't any ammunition left in the room and the five of us collapse where we stand.

"Truce," Jacob declares. Four exhausted voices echo it.

Quil curses and informs us all, "I think the wrapping ripped a little on the couch."

"We put covers on underneath," Seth says proudly. He's back on the floor, but so is everyone save for Leah, who is sitting upside down on the couch, her head hanging down off the seat, her legs where her back should be. Jacob laughs and says, "Two layers are better than one."

"I can't believe you plan stuff like this," Leah sighs. "You're all five."

"You're just mad because you lost," Seth informs her.

"I did not lose. Embry has ketchup coming out of his nose."

The marshmallow in Seth's hair gives me a run for my money, but then Jacob remembers the brownie he stuffed in Quil's sock and that's easily the grossest mess, so we all declare Quil to be the official loser. Seth gets up to put in the next movie, wiping his hands on a dirty shirt before slipping _The Howling_ into the machine. Jacob sits up so his back is against the couch's armrest and I settle on the piece of dirty furniture beside Leah, though I stay right side up.

"I hate this movie," Leah complains.

"Really? We didn't know," Jacob says. "We ignored you the first hundred times you said it."

"I knew it." But her voice is light. She's too tired to do anything but enjoy herself.

"Just watch the movie," he says with a fake growl. "And be quiet."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him reach out one hand and pick a piece of chocolate cake off her stomach. Her shirt must have ridden up in the commotion but all I can think about as Jacob licks his fingers is that neither one seems to notice. She's brushing the chocolate off the corner of his mouth and he's swatting away her hand and both of them are smiling goofily and they don't notice. They've trained themselves too well.

_The Howling_ begins but I don't think the surge I horror is from the old movie.

I love Leah Clearwater. Even in my own head, the words sound strange, but there it is. I love her. I don't think I'm ever going to like her very much, but there's no escaping that how I feel. The woman who called my mother a whore more times than I can count is the sister I never had. It's not just me and my two best friends and the Clearwater siblings. It's the five of us, together. And that changes things.

How? I'm still not sure.

By the time I've figured it out, the movie's almost over and everyone else has relocated and promptly fallen asleep. Leah's even gone and put her feet in my lap.

Or not everyone. On the other end of the couch, Jacob eyes are half-closed, but he's still staring at the screen, pinching himself occasionally to try and keep himself awake. He's not doing that great of a job, but he hasn't accidently knocked Leah's head off his thigh where it's come to rest, so at least I don't have to listen to that fight. There are still crumbs of something in her hair and I watch as he gently brushes them away.

One of the few days I was able to go to grade twelve chemistry, there was an experiment where we threw Alka-Seltzer tablets into a vat of something, maybe acid. I have no idea what the point of that whole thing was (something about reactions) but I remember that day while I look at Jacob looking at Leah, though Quil had been my partner.

It had been over quickly. One second there was a white, hard tablet and the next there was a bubbling concoction of something completely different. It's a shame I can't remember if the new substance was dangerous or not.

"Jake?" I whisper.

His hand moves away from her face, not guiltily, because that would mean there was something to be guilty for, but as if it made no difference where his fingers rest. His face is bored, his eyes are tired, his smile wane, but he gives me his full attention, speaking quietly so as not to wake the others up.

"Yeah?"

I want to ask a question, make it so like this is a debate or a discussion because I consider myself reasonable, but if I do that I know that he'll manage to talk his way out of it. He has to try. This is not fair of me, but then again, it hasn't been fair of him either.

Jacob's been my best friend forever—before either of us really knew what girls were, let alone werewolves or vampires. He used to believe in lost causes with a passion that almost scared me, but that I couldn't help but admire. Somewhere along the way, he realized the risks were too high even for him and so he put part of himself in a box and swore it had never existed. He stopped taking crazy chances. It's time he started again.

"You're in love with Leah, you know."

The words hang in the air for a moment, like the second it takes us to phase, when the world just seems to stop moving around us. And then my words fall on Jacob and he flinches as they pummel him during their mindless descent.

He's horrified at my declaration and I'm worried for a second that he might be sick. Like the fizzing Alka-Seltzer tablet, I've taken the carefully his carefully constructed world and dumped it in acid. It's melting away before his eyes and there's nothing he can do to stop it. Everything's about to disappear.

There are legends that speak of a Woman who spun the world from her words. Christians have a similar story, in that God spoke and the world was made. What I take away from it all, besides the fact that religion is really a codeword for everything that is too important not to know whether you say Creator or God or no one at all, is that words make things real. They take all shadows and fleeting forms and make them whole and solid and inescapable. There's been months of pretending, maybe years, but I moved my lips and said the words and suddenly it's reality.

Jacob loves Leah.

A hell of a lot more than he should.

He could try and deny it, but he's not an idiot, my Alpha. A denial will sound weak and hallow and would be almost as bad as an affirmation, which is the worst thing he can currently imagine. She might be free to feel whatever she likes, but he's not. Ponies and cages and fresh blood and Jacob _really_ hates me right now.

"That's not possible," he says finally.

"It shouldn't be," I agree. The way I feel about my girl is different than the way I've felt about anyone, different than I would ever want to feel. But my name is Embry Call, not Jacob Black. "But just because it shouldn't have happened doesn't mean it hasn't. You're in love with her."

"What the hell are you doing, Embry?"

_Et tu, Brute?_ Jacob might not know Latin, but that phrase is etched into every worried crevice of his face. English was the one class I paid full attention in even when Sam would order me not to, mostly because Amy Cook sat beside me and always smiled when I said something smart. I even read Shakespeare to impress her, before I found out she was dating that senior.

Comparing myself to Brutus isn't fair. Or maybe it is. I'm doing this for his own good, even if he can't see it. I'm doing it for her and for the pack because there can't be peace until this is resolved and it can't be resolved until someone admits that it's going on. It's my duty to help them, even if he can't see it. Even if he thinks I'm stabbing him the back, over and over again. Because no one was supposed to bring this up.

"I'm just saying that it's obvious you love her and I think you should do something about it."

"Do something—I _can't_ love her. I've imprinted, Embry. It doesn't work like normal anymore. There's Nessie and there's no one else. And there's no stopping it," he hisses, his fingers digging into the armrest. "So drop this."

"We don't know it's impossible to do anything about it."

"Sam couldn't stop. Sam..." he lowers his voice and he makes the conscious effort to sound softer. "Sam tried to stop imprinting. And it didn't work. It doesn't work."

"I've been talking to the vamps about it." I pretended I was asking for myself, but I still can't be sure I fooled Edward. I don't really care if I did. "About shapeshifter legends. They have some ideas about how to stop it. And Sam...Sam didn't really want to fight it, not after he'd just fought being a werewolf. He had started accepting the crazy things that were happening to him. And Leah couldn't help him because she didn't know what was going on. She knows now. She could help you."

Jacob glances down at the sleeping woman between us. The sadness around him is palpable and I think back to English class again and remember the story of Pandora's box. Out of curiosity, with no malicious purpose, Pandora opened a box and fucked up the world. From inside a beautiful container (my good intentions, maybe?) out sprang war and pestilence and disease. The world couldn't fight the ugliness that had been unleashed upon it because Pandora was too stupid to just leave the box alone. After she had finished ruining the planet, she probably sat in horror for a long time. The first person to find her would have looked like Jacob does right now.

_What have you done?_

Unleashed a horror show that can't be stopped—I feel a little sick myself. There's no taking back the words and the next time Jacob or I phase, Leah is going to hear them and she's good at hiding her feelings, but no one's that good, and everything she tells herself she doesn't feel is going to come spilling out before anyone can stop it. More emotions that can only cause pain because no one thinks there is anything to do about it.

"She won't want to help."

I snort before I can help myself. "Please. She'd jump into a river if you asked her too. She'll help you stop imprinting."

"Just because she's the Beta...I won't ask her to turn me into Sam. She shouldn't have to hurt like that again."

"She's already hurting, except we all have to pretend otherwise, so it just gets sicker and more twisted. You have to stop it."

"She doesn't—" For the briefest second something akin to hope flashes across Jacob's face and then it is paralyzed by guilt and fear. "I can't leave Nessie. Even if—I just can't do it. How hard is it to understand? Embry, you've imprinted. You've got to know what that means."

"Talk to the vamps, Jake. Especially the ones from South America. Nahuel in particular seems really interested in figuring out how to help us stop imprinting."

"I'll bet he is." A sigh and then, "There's nothing they can do."

"What if there is?"

"And what if we think there is but there really isn't?"

On screen the credits begin to roll as I stare at him. "So you're just going to give up before you even try?"

"When she tries to eat your intestines while you watch, I'm just going to buy one of those giant foam fingers so I can cheer her on."

"Okay," I say and gently push Leah's feet off me so I can take out the movie.

Jacob doesn't say anything else to me for the rest of the night. He doesn't even look at me the next morning when we're all awakened by Seth's failed attempts to make his way quietly to the washroom. Jacob just climbs off the armchair he had fled to without looking at Leah and I on the couch and offers breakfast.

We end up eating whatever food is lying around as we clean up the room. Thank goodness that Billy's not coming back until later that week because it's going to take Jacob a while to fix the place up. I want to take a shower, but Quil has a better idea.

"Let's go cliff jumping. The weather looks good and we'll be able to get clean without clogging the drain up with food."

"Race you," Seth says, already stripping down.

"We can't just leave it like this," Leah points out.

"Go ahead," Jacob says. It's as close to an order as he's ever given, which everyone immediately picks up on. "Leah and I will finish up back here."

"I don't remember volunteering," she says. Seth is already gone, but Quil and I hang back in the doorway.

"Hey, you started it. That means you have to help."

"I started it? You have got to be—" she glares up at the laughing Jacob. "You should go jump off a cliff." She spins around and heads to the kitchen, muttering about sexist werewolves under her breath.

"We can stay," Quil offers.

Jacob just shakes his head. "You two go on. I have to talk to Leah." He looks incredibly old as he says it and I feel guilty again so I shoot him an encouraging smile that he ignores. Idly, I wonder if he's ever going to talk to me again.

"Stop it," I beg.

"There is not going to be a bush you can hide under where I won't find you," he says. Animals can sense weakness, but even if I wasn't wolf-boy, I would be able to tell Jacob is petrified. Quil looks between the two of us but says nothing and then Leah comes back holding a broom and immediately notices the tension in the room.

"Someone having a staring contest and just forgot to tell me?"

"We'll be going then," I mutter as Jacob tears his eyes off of me and just murmurs, "Could you sit down for a second, Leah?"

"What's going on?" Quil asks as the two of us leave behind a confused female werewolf and her worried Alpha. There doesn't have to be words between the rest of us. I merely throw my clothes in a heap on top of Seth's and phase.

_You did what?_

Even the normally unflappable Seth is flabbergasted by my actions. Quil keeps mostly silent as Seth says things I didn't even know he knew—clearly he listens to his sister more than he's ever let on, because what he's saying is impressive, even if it makes me cringe.

_Someone had to say something. They couldn't just keep ignoring it._

_They could have and they would have,_ Seth thinks and then we've reach the cliffs so all three of phase back and he says out loud, "We all could have kept pretending. Forever, if we had to. This is just going to be Sam all over again. And we all know that was not fun for anyone!"

I've never seen Seth this upset. I didn't even think he could get angry. But he's talking like we're discussing the fact the sky is blue, so I have to ask:

"You knew?"

"Duh! Embry, I have eyes. What do you think?" He answers his own question. "Clearly, you weren't thinking at all! Why would you want to hurt them like that?"

"That's not why he did it," Quil says. I glance at my best friend and though he doesn't look happy with me, he nods to let me know he has my back. "It's not why he did it and you know that, Seth. I would have done it myself, if I had the balls."

He wouldn't. Whatever he's saying now to calm Seth down, Quil would never have done what I just did. He never would have hurt Jacob, never would have hurt Leah, never would have hurt anyone he called friend. Looking at the options the way I did, Quil would have let them cling tightly to whatever tiny bit of happiness they had rather than let them fail.

Quil's not a bastard like I am.

And the really funny thing about this? I'd rather be the bastard.

Not because I'm tired of doublespeak (though I am) and not because I'm cruel (I like to think I'm not). I'd throw acid on the world a thousand times if I could burn those bars. For the same reason Quil won't, I will—you have to love a guy to be his best friend for over a decade. Love _him_. And Jacob doesn't do soul mates like the rest of us.

Maybe that's why Leah loves him. Maybe not. I don't get her much, but she is beautiful when she smiles and I want her to start and never stop. Her eyes are dark and lost, but they could have happiness in them again, I think.

Love's always come easy to Quil, easier than it ever did for me. No one's ever told him the people he loves aren't worth it—I'm the one who had to learn the hard way that it simply is not true. If you love people, they're worth it. No matter what the gossiping women and the smirking men say. They _are_ worth it. That's why I'm the one who had to do this.

There are some things a person needs to know. And if it's not my place to force the knowledge on them, who's is it? I love them both too much to just stand by.

Even if Seth doesn't like it. And he really doesn't like it.

His voice is cracking like it hasn't in years. "You didn't see her…it took her forever to smile again. And you must remember him after Bella. Have you both forgotten that neither one of them functions anywhere near normal after they've been hurt?"

"You really think Jacob's going to be able to look Leah in the eye and tell her he's not going to do anything?" Quil is sympathetic but firm. "You really think that, Seth?"

"He _hasn't_ done anything."

"Because he's been telling himself that she doesn't want him, that he wants it so badly he's seeing things that aren't there, that he doesn't even want her in the first place. You think he's going to be able to keep doing that anymore? A fire under his ass might be the best thing for everyone."

Seth looks like he wants to argue, but he's not very good at staying angry. Instead, he just mutters, "Last one off the cliff has to console Leah first."

I let Quil and Seth beat me. It's only fair after all.

Somehow, the morning is not nearly as much fun as anticipated. Seth keeps glaring at me and even Quil isn't completely okay with what I did, though he does add, "Maybe they'll work everything out. She did turn out to be okay, so weirder things have happened."

That gets a chuckle even out of Seth, though he gets worried again as the three of us head back to the Black's house. We walk, so it takes three times as long. It's been an hour and we aren't sure that we're going to find the house still standing or not. It might make me a coward, but I'm glad I wasn't there for the conversation—it wouldn't have been safe.

My friends use me as their human shield as we walk inside, pushing me through the house tentatively, as if something might explode in front of us. That's a very real possibility.

Jacob and Leah are still in the living room where we left them, both leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed, standing there waiting for rest of us—they must have heard us come in. Their faces are once again horrifically blank, but their clothes are still the same so at least no one got angry enough to phase. That doesn't erase the fact that Leah's eyes are now red-rimmed or Jacob has dried blood under his nose. The stab of guilt is almost as power as I'm sure Jacob's fist will be.

"What are you all looking at?" she demands, arching a brow.

"You didn't get much cleaned," Quil says. All four of us stare at him, but he just shrugs. "I'm just saying. We do have to fix the room and I'm calling not it."

There's moment of silence as the depths of Quil's foolishness sinks in. Then:

"Not it."

"Not it."

"Not it."

"You're such boys!"

Leah's sigh of exasperation somehow gives the rest of us permission to burst out laughing. Because we might all be worry that our pack (our family) is about to self-destruct, but Quil is all about looking at the bigger picture, and Leah's overreactions are always funny, and the whole situation is just so ridiculous in the face of impending doom that laughter is the only option left.

And as I laugh, I realize something.

Despite Amy, English was never a passion. That might be why I forgot my favorite part of Pandora's story. It wasn't the death and destruction and people's inability to not screw up everything they touched. It was about what was left in the box.

It was about hope.

And I have hope, even after all this time. Reading minds means I know these people inside out, every selfish impulse, every irrational fear, every misplaced moment of anger. But that's not all I know. I know the depth of their loyalty and their goodness and their love. I know the bad and I know the good and I love my people, my pack, my family. I believe in them.

Even if Jacob and Leah can't look each other in the eye for the rest of the decade, even if Seth and Jacob try and bore holes into the back of my head, even if Quil makes fun of my stupidity for the next millennium, eventually it will all work out. At the end of the day, we're all friends and there is nothing stronger than the group of us together.

"So what happened?" I ask when I stop laughing.

Leah glances at Jake, but I can't read the communication between them before she walks forward. Her back is straight, her eyes burn and despite her rumpled clothing and dirty face, she still manages to remind me of a vengeful goddess.

She punches me right in the jaw.

I hear the crack and then—

When I come to, I'm on Jacob's couch. My head is still ringing, but the pack has not chosen to remain silent when they see I'm waking up. Quil is still laughing, while Seth is trying not to as he perches on the armrest that my feet are resting on. At least my jaw is no longer broken.

"You deserved that," Leah informs me as she holds ice to the side of my face. She's kneeling on the ground beside me and now that she's mere inches away from my face I realize there are tiny flecks of brown in the black pools of her eyes that match the dark chocolate smeared on her face. Then I notice that her lips look fuller than normal. Swollen.

Jacob is just behind her and I can't help but notice the same can be said about him. Both of them are watching me. Jacob adds, "You deserve a whole lot more."

So what came first, the kissing or the crying? No, that's not what matters, that's never been what matters even if I'm an idiot and thought it was. The question is not what about what was at the beginning. The question is: what is the result we have to live with? I look up to ask him exactly that, but he's not looking at me anymore. He's looking at Leah and he looks worried.

Maybe because she's frozen, her hand on my ear from where she had been moving my head. She's even started to tremble. "What's wrong?" I mutter.

"Nothing," she snaps, fooling no one. The rest of the pack starts to look worried now too. Leah looks up at Jacob and grimaces, but a glance back at me seems to fortify her somehow. "Do you still want to know?"

"What?"

"About..." she glances at Jacob again and I get it. Jacob does too, if the way he crosses his arms is any indication.

"I thought you said you didn't—"

Her hands move off of me and I have to hold the ice on by myself. "I thought of something. Something...it's like blue eyes. Some types of people can't have kids with some kinds of characteristics. You'd have to look at their dads, but..."

"But I would have a place to start," I finish. She nods.

Jacob walks so he's now behind me, so I can feel the warmth from his body, and puts his hands on my shoulders. He doesn't say anything, at this point there's nothing to say, but I appreciate his gesture of solidarity. Whatever comes out of Leah's mouth, he's there for me, even if he's angry, even if I just almost ruined one of the most important relationships in his life. He'll always be there. So will Quil and Seth, who reach out and touch me. The pack wants me to know I can count on them.

Leah is still talking, asking, "So you still want to know?"

My tongue feels thick in my mouth. It's hard to admit that I might have had it all wrong.

It's not by knowing my father that I can put him behind me. I've done that a long time ago, slowly but surely, every father's day where I never had anyone to give cards too and every pack gathering where I've laughed until there were tears streaming down my face. Knowing the name of a man from my mother's past is supposed to give me closure because it's supposed to give me understanding. But I don't need to know his name to understand.

Maybe he was just a jerk looking for a quick fuck. Or maybe he was a nice man who couldn't help finding my vivacious mother enchanting (maybe he just had really good taste). Maybe he told himself he was protecting her, as he kept her hidden in the shadows. He had promised away his heart already and there are some promises you can't (or think you can't) break and so he left her and me one day because it wasn't about what he wanted, but about what was possible.

There are possibilities right now. There is hope.

If I ask Leah to keep talking, there won't be.

"No," I say. I feel lighter than I have in years, because I can feel the truth in the words. "No. I don't need to know."

"That's it?" Leah cries. "I watched you for a fucking month! And—" She breaks off and takes a deep breath. With visible effort she calms herself down. "I guess this just proves I was right. You were an idiot for wanting to know in the first place."

There is a part of me that's wants to take it back and ask what Leah thinks she's discovered. There always will be. But knowing won't change anything—not for me at any rate. Everything I needed to discover about my father and myself I already know. His name is unimportant.

"Embry's always an idiot," Jacob announces cheerfully as everyone backs off to clean up the room. There's a lot of work to do before Billy gets home, but we'll manage. "It's part of his charm."

...

Author's Note: I know. I suck. Sorry. There's just the brief epilogue after this, for those of you who can't stand this ending and want me to hit you over the head with why Embry did what he did. For those of you wondering about the genetics, I was talking about attached/free earlobes.


	4. Epilogue

Author's Notes: This was Embry's story and Embry's story ends here. But he's been watching another story unfold and it seems that it's not finished just yet. So yes, I am crazily writing a sequel if anyone's interested or feels like I forgot something important in the epilogue (and I can't believe I'm saying this because I like plans and this wasn't part of it). It's going to be a little different, in that it's not crazy divisible and hardcore reflective. I'm going to try writing a story all about the plot. The horror! All right. Onto the epilogue.

...

Epilogue

...

Time has been kind to my mother. Too kind, she thinks. She's already too young to have a grandchild—she doesn't need to look even younger. No one else has a mother as beautiful as mine, but to tell her that would only depress her and there will be no sadness in my son's life just yet, not when it's still so new that I can fool myself into thinking I can protect him.

"He's beautiful," my mother whispers beside me, tears in her eyes. My hand squeezes hers, this woman who has given me so much. As my wife regains her strength in the hospital room (her parents will guard her for now), I stand beside the only other woman in the world who could tear me from her side and gaze at my tiny boy who is just…perfect.

"Thank you."

She must know I mean for everything, because the tears begin to fall and she pats my head like she did when I was little, even though I'm now more than a foot taller so it doesn't work as well. I smile through my own tears and hold her even more tightly.

"Embry?" Her voice is a whisper. "I've been thinking...I worry that I should have told you a long time ago. About your father, I mean."

"Mom, I don't need anyone else. I have you."

And the pack, I think but don't say, though I suspect she knows that too. She never approved of my friends when I started growing rapidly and sneaking out at all hours (at least until Jacob let me explain) but with her mother's intuition she's always known how much they mean to me.

They're all here today, not that it's a surprise. Seth has managed to charm all the nurses, so they've managed to set up camp quite comfortably in one of the nearby waiting rooms. Quil is collecting all the balloons and cards that have been sent, though I suspect the food is not going to make it home. Jacob is slowly repeating one of his father's stories, reading over Leah's shoulder as she writes it down, the two of them occasionally stopping to argue about the proper pronunciation of the ancient words.

I have a son. It's not surprising that I'm smiling fit to burst. Everything would be perfect if only my mother would stop furrowing her brow like that.

"I just can't help feeling like you should know," she says.

I lean over—it's too easy now that I'm a giant—and kiss her forehead. "It's okay, Mom."

There _are_ some things a person should know. Things like where you come from and who you are. But I didn't need to know who my father was to figure that out. There's only one piece of information that I ever really needed.

"I know who loves me."

...

The End


End file.
